Courtney's Revenge from Slave to Captor ft Latina (HD)

Description:

The dim glow of a single flashlight cut through the darkness as Courtney, clad in sheer black pantyhose and ankle socks, slipped silently through the unfamiliar house. Her movements were calculated, practiced, each step a whisper against the hardwood floors. The beam of light danced across antique furniture, expensive-looking artwork, and ornate vases, but Courtney's focus was singular: find the money and get out. She had been told this was an easy mark, a wealthy homeowner who kept cash stashed in a hidden safe. But something felt off. The house was too quiet, too still, like it was holding its breath. But the sound came again, closer this time. A floorboard groaned under the weight of a deliberate step. Courtney froze, her pulse pounding in her ears. She turned slowly, the flashlight beam trembling in her hand. And then she saw her—a figure standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the faint light spilling from another room. The figure was tall, curvaceous, with dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “Looking for something?” The woman's voice was smooth, laced with a Latina accent that sent a shiver down Courtney's spine. Before Courtney could react, the woman was on her, swift and silent. A strong hand clamped over Courtney's mouth, muffling her startled gasp. Courtney struggled, her hands clawing at the woman's grip, but it was like trying to break free from a vise. “Shh,” the woman whispered, her breath hot against Courtney's ear. “Struggling only makes it worse.” Courtney's eyes widened as she felt the woman's other hand slip around her waist, pulling her back against a firm, muscular body. The woman's grip tightened, her fingers digging into Courtney's wrists as she pulled them behind her back. Courtney's heart raced, her mind racing through escape scenarios, but the woman was too strong, too skilled. “You picked the wrong house, cariño,” the woman murmured, her lips brushing against Courtney's ear. “But I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with you.” With practiced efficiency, the woman—Latina, Courtney's mind supplied—pushed Courtney toward the center of the room. The beam of a flashlight clicked on, blinding Courtney momentarily. She squinted, trying to adjust, but Latina was already moving, her hands deftly tying Courtney's wrists together with a length of rope. “What are you doing?” Courtney demanded, her voice muffled by Latina's hand. Courtney's wrists were bound tightly, the rope biting into her skin. Latina stepped closer, her fingers tracing the curve of Courtney's jaw before she pressed a ball gag into her mouth. Courtney tried to resist, but Latina's grip was unyielding. The gag was cold and hard, the leather strap digging into her cheeks as Latina tightened it. “There,” Latina said, stepping back to admire her work. “Now you can't say a word. Perfect.” Courtney's eyes blazed with frustration as she tried to spit out the gag, but it was no use. Drool began to trickle from the corners of her mouth, dripping onto her chest. Latina watched with a satisfied smirk, clearly enjoying Courtney's helplessness. “You're quite the little thief, aren't you?” Latina said, circling Courtney like a predator. Her fingers trailed over Courtney's pantyhose-clad legs, sending shivers down her spine. “But I think it's time you learned a lesson.” Without warning, Latina grabbed Courtney's bound wrists and pulled them upward, pulling her onto her tiptoes. Courtney gasped through the gag, her arms aching as Latina tied the rope to a beam overhead, suspending her in a strappado position. Her body hung limply, her shoulders screaming in protest, her feet barely touching the ground. Courtney struggled against her bonds, her body twisting and writhing as she tried to free herself. Drool dripped steadily from her mouth, pooling on the floor beneath her. Latina watched, a cruel smile playing on her lips, as Courtney's efforts only served to tighten the ropes further. “Such a pretty little burglar,” Latina murmured, running a finger along Courtney's cheek. “But you're not going anywhere.” After several minutes of watching Courtney struggle, Latina decided it was time to escalate. She stepped closer, her hands moving with deliberate slowness as she untied Courtney from the beam. Courtney's hopes of escape were quickly dashed as Latina pushed her to the ground, pushing her onto her stomach. Courtney's eyes widened in panic as Latina pulled her arms back, binding them to her ankles in a strict hogtie. The position was excruciating, her body bent almost in half, her muscles screaming in protest. Latina added a final touch, securing a leather OTM harness over Courtney's ball gag, tightening it until Courtney's eyes watered. “Perfect,” Latina purred, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Now you're completely immobile. Just the way I like it.” Courtney lay on the floor, her body trembling with frustration and fear. She could barely move, her breath coming in short, painful gasps through the gag. Latina knelt beside her, her fingers tracing the curves of Courtney's body, her touch both mocking and intimate. Before Courtney could process her words, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the house. Latina froze, her head snapping toward the source of the noise. A figure appeared in the doorway, a man with a determined expression and a coil of rope in his hand. The man didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, tackling Latina to the ground. Courtney watched, her heart pounding, as the two struggled, their bodies tangling in a fierce battle of wills. The man was strong, his movements fueled by anger, and soon he had Latina pinned beneath him. The man tied her wrists to the beam, pulling them high in a strappado position, just as she had done to Courtney. “Revenge is a dish best served cold,” he said, stepping back to admire his work. Latina struggled against her bonds, her blue underwear and socks the only things covering her as she hung helplessly.